A Series Of Dares
by Bast13
Summary: Join Wales as he celebrates his victory over England in the 2015 Rugby World Cup by their age-old traditions: The night of dares. Wales and eleven other countries take turns to humiliate England in a series of dares.


**Hello everybody! I hope you enjoy this (no-so) quick one-shot about the aftermath of the 2015 Rugby World Cup game where Wales won against England.**

 **I apologise to Fiji, Uruguay, South Africa, Samoa, Tongo, Argentina, Georgia and Nambia. I wanted to include you but I don't have the knowledge or courage to make up OCs for countries I haven't visited. You're all awesome!**

 **And just keep in mind. The opinions stated by the characters do not reflect my own. All insults, especially towards to France, are purely made-up and not intended to be taken seriously in anyway.**

 **With that in mind, I hope you enjoy this one-shot and I'd appreciate any reviews telling me if you did or didn't! :D**

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 **[Translations]** **Brawd-Brother, Éire-Ireland**

For one-hundred and thirty-four years England had been switching between hating and loving the bet he'd made with Wales all those years ago. At present he was _definitely_ in the former's court.

For starters he was wearing an infernally bright yellow daffodil around his head, 'borrowed' from his brother and then he had goodness-knows what painted on his face in red and green paint. It had started to dry and irritate his skin but that was by far the least annoying thing in that room.

Hearty, roaring laughter was filling his bedroom, louder than continuous thunder, and it was all stemming from a source doubled over and shaking. England's brother, Wales, was still wearing the red rugby shirt of 2015 with his face smeared with his own face paint but was much more skilfully done than England's. Brown hair slightly longer than the blonde's own was falling onto his thick eyebrows but still allowing England to see the Welshman's emerald eyes tearing with joy and the breathlessness of laughter.

This went on for quite some time with England tapping his foot throughout until he cleared his throat loudly, having become sick of it. "Ha, ha, ha. I bet whatever you wrote on my head is utterly hilarious," England couldn't help rolling his eyes as he spoke in a deadpanned voice to the Welsh nation, "but if I may ask: Is my punishment over yet?"

Wales wiped a tear from his eye and gave his brother a sinisterly happy look. "Is your _punishment_ over yet? No. No, it isn't. Oh England, it hasn't even begun."

England's face blanched.

Wales sighed dramatically but was still chuckling as he strolled over to his brother and patted his shoulder in an even less sincere way. "Don't look like that, _brawd_. It's not like I'm forcing you to do this. This is all a part of our little agreement."

Wales actually tented his fingers, enjoying his power much too much. His melodious voice sounded like it was singing the villain's score. " _I_ won, so _you_ are mine for the rest of the night." He clapped his hands together and proclaimed in a loud voice, "Let the dares begin!" and dragged England by the arm out of the bedroom.

The hallway of their country house on the border was large and grand, decorated with expensive portraits and items from each country's past facing the wall of windows revealing the emerald hills just outside. The wallpaper was scarlet flowers on a scarlet background and the long patterned carpet ran down the equally long corridor before it branched off into the staircase leading to the ground floor. England and Wales had their bedrooms on opposite ends of the second floor but as the one wall curved around to allow for more space it bore several other wooden doors for the guest rooms.

As Wales shepherded the stiff Englishman down the corridor he kept calling out loudly. "Hey everyone! If you fancy watching some torment then get out of your rooms and join me in the hall! The night of dares is about to commence!"

The sound of brass door knobs turning and doors opening excitedly clattered through our house since all the nations present had been through a rugby world cup before. By the time England had been taken down to the large square hall eight countries were standing in front of Wales. Australia, Japan, America, New Zealand, France, Veneziano (Romano had shouted something rude through his door to clarify he wasn't coming with them), Canada and Romania were all ready to go out with the British siblings for the traditional night of humiliation.

This didn't happen with the others and Wales could tell that most of them didn't understand the whole rivalry he had with his brother to the east but plenty of them were more than eager for the chance to humiliate England regardless of the circumstances. And so it began.

They were all outside a local pub enjoying the fresh air and the stars when they began to scheme. All the countries physically above the drinking age had a pint in hand, courtesy of England, but Japan, Italy and Canada were remaining out of it, sticking around just in case the police needed someone sober to explain the situation to them, while England was waiting crossly with his arms folded and his eyebrows furrowed in a spectacular scowl. It's true he did this to Wales whenever _he_ won the match, and probably enjoyed it even more, but this time Wales had more ammunition. The other countries.

England had already known this wasn't going to be a pleasant evening to say the least but when Wales turned around to look at him during the huddle. "Aren't you _so_ happy we're the ones hosting this year?" he asked in a voice quavering in a failed attempt to conceal laughter.

"Ecs-bloody-tatic," he grumbled back.

"Good." The countries detached from their circle and stood to face England, each bearing identical grins whether they were usually kind or not. This chance was too good to pass up after all.

England's dread jumped higher than the moon when France was the one to step forwards. "Oh, zis will be fun, Angleterre. Your brozer 'as decided zat 'e cannot be a bad 'ost and do zis all by 'imself." The dread skyrocketed higher than the stars. "So we 'ave decided to _all_ 'ave a turn."

"And France volunteered to go first!" Wales announced cheerily.

 **Dare 1 - France**

France tossed his golden hair and smiled. "Now it's time for my revenge, _Angleterre_. Do you 'appen to remember zis? For ze rest of ze night, you will compliment my culture, language and food."

"And if I refused?" England had imagined all sorts of tortures but this was _far_ worse. Why couldn't he just jump off a bridge or something?

Wales tutted. "You know."

And that was all the enforcement England needed. He and Wales _had_ made sure that neither of the two would back out after all. That had kept this family tradition going after all these years.

England cranked his head like a rusty crane towards France's direction and forced a smile akin to the one of a lamp. " _Bonjour_."

"Oh, come on. You can do better zan zat. Louder, and wiz more passion. Say, ' _J'adore le France_ '!"

You could almost see the gears in the Brit's mind churning as they fought against his action. " _J'adore le France_."

"Louder."

" _J'adore le France_!"

"Come on, _Angleterre_."

" _J'ADORE LE FRANCE_!" England shouted, attracting the attention of the nearby people. His pale face burned bright red. The countries burst out laughing at England's expression which was that of an angry lobster desperately trying to stay calm. England's indignation at this only made them laugh harder.

"What else, Iggy?" America prodded.

England breathed deeply, ignoring the watchful eyes of people trying to gauge whether he was mad or not. "YOUR FOOD IS UTTERLY AMAZING! THERE'S NOTHING BETTER THAN SNAILS AND FROGS IN THE MORNING TO GO WITH THE GALLONS OF WINE I DOWN DAILY! AND I JUST _LOVE_ YOUR CLOTHES! NOTHING ELSE SHOWS QUITE AS MUCH BRAVERY THAN YOUR INSISTENCE ON WEARING WHAT YOU DO! I'M EVEN GOING TO MOVE THERE BECAUSE YOUR LANGUAGE DOES _NOT_ SOUND LIKE THE MOST PRETENTIOUS FROG PLAYING A FLUTE! _ALLONS ENFANT DE LA_ PARTIE AND ALL THAT!"

His voice rang with sarcasm that was definitely not missed by France who was about to dive but Scotland grabbed his shoulder to hold him back. "C-C-Come on...France! The bugger...did it!" Scotland was gasping for air after laughing so hard at the two old enemies' expressions. England's was quickly becoming redder than the Scot's hair, almost hiding the obscene insults written in red on his cheeks.

"Who the hell's next? And does anyone have any acid to clean my tongue with?" England added hurriedly, sticking his tongue out with a pretend disgusted expression on his face to make his point.

New Zealand raised his hand halfway. "I'll do the next one."

 **Dare 2 – New Zealand**

His green eyes looked bleary when he turned to England's brother. "Wales? Could you help me find something?"

So he and Wales made a beeline for one of the shop round the corner. As soon as they turned out of sight there'd been a small pause before the sound of Wales chuckling could be heard. He popped his head back to meet England's eyes. "No peeking~," he chirped before darting back to the mystery shop.

One dare down, but there were eight more to go.

"Don't look like that, England," Canada reminded kindly. "You and Wales do this every year and you always end up enjoying it."

"Well, starting out saying what I had to say doesn't help matters." He rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling back at Canada's amethyst-like gaze. "And you still haven't given me the acid yet."

France glared at England but the latter raised his hands in snarky protest. "Listen, I haven't said a single word insulting your _wonderful_ language."

"I'm pretty sure, 'the most pretentious frog playing a flute' counts, England," Australia noted.

The Englishman smirked. "That's why I said it _doesn't_ sound like that."

"In _the_ most sarcastic way possible," Ireland grinned, twirling her dark ginger hair around a finger.

There was a small moment of silence interrupted by America. "Y'know what? I have absolutely no doubt about it now. Sarcasm was invented in the British Isles," he said cheerfully while England, Scotland, North and Ireland rolled their identical green eyes simultaneously, a true symbol of their siblingship.

"Well, one thing that seems to be just with Wales and New Zealand actually scares me. I mean, who knew guys so quiet could be so brutal in rugby?" said Romania.

France, America and England's eyes all flickered towards Canada for a moment but nothing was said before the two shepherd nations returned, New Zealand with his arms behind his back.

"Oh for the love of..." England bit his lip. "What is this?"

New Zealand presented it and England's mouth gaped at the ridiculousness. "Be thankful we couldn't find a hobbit costume."

So that's how England ended up dressing up as a daffodil-headed sheep with welsh insults painted on his face. It wasn't helped by the fact that nearly everyone around him was drinking because as he jogged through the town's streets even the locals were giving him odd looks.

 **Dare 3 – America**

The old empire wasn't a weak person at all but having to give America a piggyback ride made him wish he'd had the excuse. The other countries jogged after him and his ex-charge, Scotland very much enjoying using Japan's camera as they did so, with the echoes of America's 'yee-haws' and laughter filling the air.

"Giddy-up, Iggy!" America kicked England to make his point as he held on with one hand and twirled an imaginary cowboy hat with the other. "Go! Go! Onwards onto the sunset and high-ho, Silver!"

"I'm not a...bloody...horse!" England panted. The woollen costume meant that he was getting really warm despite it being nine o'clock in Britain.

America's mouth fell into an 'o' before growing back into a beaming smile. "Oh right. To the sheep farm!" he declared in a large voice.

"Hey! Mate!" interrupted a worried passer-by. He spoke in a welsh accent and had an expression of utter confusion plastered on his face. England halted and the two blondes turned their heads to see the bewildered civilian.

"Yes?" England asked in a polite voice. If anything had confused the Welshman more...

"Yeah, um...A-Are you alright? I know we won but this is..." the man waved his arms in England's direction, words having failed him.

England was about to retort that he wasn't exactly celebrating the win but then a plan popped into his mind. He gave the man the most polite and innocent smile he could and said, "Don't mind me. Just taking a youngster out for a swim since it's such a lovely night."

America's irises shrank in fear as he glanced down at the older country. "What?"

England's smile showed more teeth. "Yes. Now if you'd please excuse me." America scrambled to grab the two fluffy ears on the sheep costume's head as England suddenly sprinted off. "BEING MIMES DOES NOT MAKE THE FRENCH BETTER TO BE AROUND!" he yelled for good measure while he darted in the direction of the nearby river.

"England! England, stop!" America yelled.

"Sorry, America. I've seemed to have gone suddenly deaf!" the elder replied as the river came into view.

And in that moment, none of America's attempts, all the other countries behind them shouting or the fact England was wearing wool would have stopped England from leaping into that river right then.

The icy water and the churning current made it difficult to swim but England couldn't exactly spend so much time as an island without learning how to swim. He almost swallowed the entire river from laughing and he was now properly soaked to the skin but seeing America flail about and flounder with his regular over-exaggeration made it definitely worth it.

"England! England, yeh crazy sheep, what the heck were yeh thinkin'!?" Scotland shouted after them as he watched the two struggling to tred water.

England turned onto his back and tried acting casual while spitting wheat-coloured hair out of his mouth. "'Ello, 'ello dear brother. Fancy a swim?"

Scotland barked a laugh. "Not on yeh life!"

North reached the riverbank then stopped abruptly. "Ha! You look like an idiot, bro!"

"Help! Help me!" America spluttered, still panicking and not really thinking.

"Alright, alright. Don't worry, I got'cha, America," Australia assured, strolling down the edge of the river.

"No, no. I can take care of him, Australia," England countered, pushing America towards the bank for North and Canada to pull out.

"Shouldn't we help England out too?" New Zealand wondered to the others.

Australia waved him off. "Nah, he seems fine as he is."

"Really? Does that mean you're willing to join me?"

As a reply, Australia grabbed the hem of his bright yellow shirt and tore it off, throwing it to France and jumping in. The water splashed everyone nearby and when he resurfaced he seemed completely unfazed by the cold, the plaster across his nose somehow still stuck there.

 **Dare 4 – Australia**

"If I beat you to the next bridge then you have to buy the next round!" the Australian explained.

"And if I beat you then you'll buy _me_ a pint. Good luck," England said before kicking off. Australia spared a small moment to voice his annoyance at the Brit's head start but caught up to him soon after.

The eleven other countries followed the racers down the river with most of them cheering on Australia. Their breath had begun to show in the cool air but surprisingly the two swimming nations weren't feeling it. England had his sheep costume to help while Australia was naturally hot.

"Come on, Oz!" Wales called to his friend who was easily outstripping England.

They'd reached the final patch of river so England decided it was all or nothing. He ignored his tiredness and pushed himself as hard as he could, trying to catch up to the larger island nation. And inevitably failing. He was doing the doggy paddle out of exhaustion by then.

Australia reached the underside of the next bridge along and jumped out of the river like a victorious dolphin. "Woo! I'm the winner! Too bad England but you're buying."

By then England was too tired to say much else than, "Fine." He turned onto his back and began to drift away with the current before Australia grabbed the folds of the wool and dragged him back onto dry land, still celebrating.

Wales and America both went to high-five the victor while North and Romania helped England to his feet, North recoiling at the feel of wet wool.

"Ew. Wales, how do you cope with all your sheep _and_ rain?" he wondered, wiping his hands off on his trousers.

"Experience," he replied jokingly.

Italy looked around with a worried expression. "Ve~..." he said in a confused tone. "Hey guys, do you know where we are? We past the town like half a river ago."

That very thought stuck every nation there simultaneously. Their heads whipped around but saw only an empty b-road and small tufts of greenery.

"I say we head to the pub. Little bro owes us all a drink!" Ireland grinned, patting England's shoulder then proceeding to wipe her hand on her skirt similarly to her youngest brother.

France waved his hand towards the road. "Let's just follow ze road. It'll lead to a tavern eventually, knowing you Brits and your love of alcohol."

" _I'm_ going to take that as a compliment," Wales said cheerfully. "Plus, a little walk never killed anyone."

Famous last words. That 'little walk' took all the countries almost an hour since they'd thought continuing north would be a good idea instead of simply going back the way they came. On the bright side however, they all spent the time happily discussing what they were all there for in the first place. The World Cup.

"Japan, what was did was amazing to watch," Canada complimented the black-haired country as they walked, still seeing no signs of civilisation so far.

He blushed in response. "Thank you, Canada-san."

"Yeah, sorry for beating you, mate. Yeh still did well, so congrats for that," Scotland added, ruffling up his red hair absent-mindedly.

"No, don't aporogise. You simpry fought better than I did."

"Yeah, but what's the deal with them using the TMO for _every_ try?" North huffed. "I mean, if you've done i t, you've done it."

"It does help. But it must be awful when they get all that way only to find out they dropped it at the last second, eh?" Canada sighed.

"It's probably more awful to get all that way then have your leg broken or something," Romania noted.

Scotland snickered. "Yeah. Soon ol' Wales here'll be playing with just one guy in a wheelchair. Your lot's been like a frickin' sugar glass cannon."

"But I'd play regardless. If push comes to shove then we can all just play wheelchair rugby. I hear it's brutal," said Wales.

"I haven't played personally but with the way things are going that probably won't be for long." England put his hand to his forehead like he was searching for something but still came up with naught. "Goodness gracious, Wales. Don't you have anything besides mountains around here?"

Wales elbowed his brother playfully as he went over to walk by his side. "I know you're just jealous. Don't worry everybody, we'll get there soon."

New Zealand sighed in relief. "Thank goodness."

And Wales was right, as he would be at home. In only a few more minutes after that the thirteen nations had finally reached another town.

"Finally!" America exclaimed. He sank to his knees and onto the pavement melodramatically.

"Oh grow up, America," England chastised as he walked past, resisting the urge to sit down and do the same.

"Yes! Found one!" North cheered, having found somewhere for everyone to sit down and eat. Wales shepherded everyone inside but due to their sheer numbers they were split over a lot of tables, taking up most of the pub's space, but the best bit? It was all on England's dime.

"If my economy goes down because of this I'm making sure to take you all down with me. You know I will!" the nation had declared in angry tone but with an unsupressable smile.

In traditional British manner, neither Wales nor England had wanted to trouble the restaurant very much so they went with splitting a plate of food between the tables of five, four and four. Wales, England, Romania, Australia and New Zealand were picking at some chips and pizza when halfway through something occurred to Romania.

 **Dare 5 - Romania**

"England, it's a real shame." He smiled sinisterly, showing off his signature chipped tooth that looked like a fang.

"What is, Romania?"

"That we're all eating without any entertainment. How about you and the local fae around the area put on a show for us?"

England stood up from his seat and readjusted his collar since he wasn't wearing a tie. "Lucky for all of you I am the land of the playwrights! Prepare yourselves and behold: Hamlet!"

He walked over so he could be seen by all three tables and began talking to his flying friends who wouldn't be seen by most regardless of the angle. England cleared his throat and completely threw himself into act one, scene one.

It truly was a performance that would make one laugh and cry all at the same time. The fairies played their part extraordinarily well for the supernatural, the countries suspected England had been making them join his hobbies onto them in his spare time, and it was wonderful. It ended on one the fairies' lines but when they finished Ireland, North, Scotland, Romania and Wales caved in gave England the round of applause he deserved. The others, however, just sat there and stared after what had been a confirmation of their previous impression. England was crazy.

The country in question gave them all a grand, sweeping bow then smirked at Romania. "How was that?"

Romania shrugged. "Well done, England. Do you and the fae know that by heart?"

"Pft. You act as if none of you do the same." And no-one had the courage to correct him.

Ireland's green eyes wandered up, shining like jewels in the low lamp light, and read the clock. She yawned and stretched like a cat. "It's past midnight, guys. We better find out where the heck we are then get back to the house, time won't stop just to let us party after all."

She started to get up from her table but Scotland stopped her. "Don't leave just yet, Éire. We still haven't had our fun yet."

"Remember, nothing political," Wales reminded his siblings. "You can't make him declare war on pancakes or something...Officially anyways. You know how much bosses hate when we do that."

North craned his neck to read the clock his sister had been staring at. "It _is_ getting late..." He whipped his head around and beamed in a way that lit up his freckled face. "So how 'bout we have a combined dare to save time?"

"Oh, this is going to be special," England moaned, still too proud about his performance to really care.

"Get going, guys," Wales chuckled and the three red-headed countries stood up to gather in a huddle. It was a long anxious moments, the three's murmuring filling England with anticipation as the list of several possible dares grew in his mind so when they finished talking he was almost glad. Almost.

His three siblings were putting on their best villain faces, revelling in the thoughts of what they were about to do to their brother. Scotland rubbed his hands together. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this."

England spread his arms. He'd given up the sodden sheep costume with New Zealand's permission halfway through their long trip down the road but Wales had insisted that he kept the daffodil hat which hadn't dried as quickly as his regular clothes meaning that he was still a ridiculous enough sight for his brothers and sister. "I've been through enough tonight. I'm ready."

North looked around the pub. Despite it being technically morning there were still a few people aside from the nation guests. He turned back to face England then smirked. "Let's take this outside, shall we?"

England mentally sighed. At least this meant it'd be over quicker.

 **Dare 6 –Ireland, Scotland & North**

It was now past twelve at night so the air was very cold. The nations' breath was visible in small clouds and made it almost look like it was foggy specifically about Ireland's mouth while she explained England's next dare.

"Take off your shirt and trousers," she ordered straightforwardly.

"At this temperature?"

Australia laughed. "You didn't seem to mind when you dived in the river."

Italy rubbed his arms and shivered. "Are you sure? It is pretty cold out here."

"It'll be fine, Italy. He's probably adapted to this weather after all the centuries he'd spent in it," New Zealand said.

This made Wales chuckle. "Don't underestimate an Englishman's ability to complain about the weather."

"And I will definitely proceed to do so," England said matter-of-factly. He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers while rattling off a list of reasons why this weather was _much_ worse than anything any of the other countries experience; a mere storm or two was _nothing_ compared to a few degrees above freezing.

"Alright. So now what?" he asked, hiding the fact he was shivering in an attempt to save his pride which was rather redundant when he was wearing nothing but his boxers and an oversized fabric daffodil.

Scotland messed around with his phone for a small bit before answering the second-youngest Briton. He held the screen up for England to see and revealed a music player displaying a white 'x' on the blue background that was Scotland's flag.

"We've put you through quite a bit today so we decided to close it off with a little celebration." And with a press bagpipes began blaring out of the Scot's phone.

Scotland grinned at his brother as 'Flower of Scotland' played. "C'mon, yeh crazy sheep. Give us a dance."

"Now he's not dressed up, I feel like I can take offense to that," Wales added.

England brushed himself off and gave a confident glance at his red-headed elder. "I think I'll do a bit more than simply 'give you a dance'. Despite it being bagpipes I feel as if I could still beat you in a competition."

It was a very obvious play but one Scotland was very happy to get involved in, one more chance to one-up the former-empire. "Are yeh ready? Hey, Éire? Can yeh put on a playlist or something? I feel like one song won't do this justice."

Ireland messed around with Scotland's phone briefly before restarting his suggested anthem. The music began to fill the air while the countries formed a rough circle around England and Scotland, waiting for the entertainment to start. And so it did.

Just like with the Shakespearean performance England saw no point in holding back in a situation where he might as well try to win. Maybe it wasn't what either of the countries were most famous for but that certainly didn't mean it wasn't something spectacular to watch.

America hadn't known England could dance so well but as everyone watched they saw the two make bagpipes sound exciting and energetic. By the end of the first anthem no-one felt as if they could declare a winner, thus starting round two: Amhrán na bhFiann (pronounce that as you will), the Soldier's song and Ireland's anthem.

Soon it was made clear that she couldn't simply stand still at that point, it was an obligation of hers to prove that her song truly was the best. So slowly, but very surely, you had all the countries throwing themselves in for the heck of it and actually enjoying themselves in the process. They loved attempting to one-up each other and making remarks about how theirs was obviously the better song.

"As long as no-one starts playing, 'God save ze Queen'," France quipped. "I'm tired enough wizout zat to put me to sleep."

It was at that moment England 'coincidentally' smashed into the Frenchman, feigning innocence. "Oh sorry. I'd hate to accidently hurt such a beautiful man such as yourself," England said, proceeding to dance right onto France's feet.

"Ow!"

"No-one has a chance of beating the creator of modern music!" England boasted.

"Hey!" America protested.

While the dancing/chaos continued Canada happened to notice Romania holding up Japan's camera. "What'cha doing, eh?"

"Making sure we never forget this moment." It would have been quite a sweet thing to say had the camera not been focused on a practically naked England dancing to 'The Star-Spangled Banner' against America.

It went on for quite some time until all thirteen nations' anthems had been exhausted along with the countries themselves. England had snatched up his clothes and most of the people there were all breathing heavily while Wales attempted to get their attention. He'd quickly joined the fray but was probably one of the least tired there thanks to him being on home soil.

"Just want to say thanks to all of you. I had a ton of fun tonight because of us joining together in celebrating my victory against England." He checked his watch and sighed. "But sadly we've all got places to be tomor...today," he corrected.

They all walked together in a chattering herd to a taxi stop, feeling happy with themselves for all that they'd accomplished and thinking that they'd certainly cherish these memories until the next chance occurred: which could be sooner or later depending on when one of them would be nearby the blonde nation after he'd been at the pub.

Wales had made a few calls so there were some taxis waiting for them when they got there but sadly not quite enough for all thirteen.

"Hmm...It seems that two peopre wirr have to wait for another to come," concluded Japan.

Wales sighed. "As the host I'll volunteer."

"I can stay behind, Wales-sa..."

"Nah, don't trouble yourself, Japan. It's obvious who'll be coming with me." Wales reached out and pulled England closer. "I'll wait with England for another taxi. It won't take me long and I know all you lot have places to be in the morning."

"If now doesn't count," yawned New Zealand, relenting and beginning to climb into the car.

"Thanks for a great night," Australia called out of the window before they drove away.

"Meet you back at the house!" Wales replied, cupping his hands over his mouth. He waved them good-bye until it was just him and his brother again.

England exhaled deeply and folded his arms. "Couldn't even count the number you'd need?"

Wales shook his head. "'Course I could."

England raised a thick eyebrow at the brunette to his side.

Wales chuckled at his brother's reaction. "What? I'm not dumb. I can count perfectly well thank you very much. I wanted to talk to you."

The blonde nation paled. He'd almost forgot that Wales hadn't actually done anything to him yet.

"C'mon. There's a quiet place actually not far from here."

 **Dare 7 - Wales**

So he lead his brother to a small empty park not too far from the taxi stop. Even for a town it was eerily quiet so it seemed like a little dark pocket. Wales invited him to sit down on one of the benches barely reached by the streetlamps, taking a small second to readjust the off-centre daffodil that had gone astray during all of the night's chaos.

England batted his hand away. "Does it really count anymore? It's past midnight so it's technically the twenty-eighth."

Wales shrugged. "We haven't gone to bed so I don't think it's quite over yet."

England rolled his eyes. "On that logic I'd be about fifty days behind the rest of you just considering this year."

"You've got a lot to do, _brawd_. I'm getting more lately since I have my own assembly and everything now."

England slumped in his seat and put a hand to his face, groaning. "Thanks for reminding me. When I'm focused on a cup it's easy to forget but now I've remembered all I have to sort out." He met his brother's eyes out of the corners of his. "I still can't believe he's going to attempt it again after everything I did to get him to stay."

Wales' lips tightened sadly before turning back into a smile. "Don't worry 'bout that now. It's not even dated yet so there's no real point in worrying."

"Yet," England added gloomily. Wales nodded. Neither of them said anything else for roughly a minute before England's curiosity got the better of him. "So what do you have in mind? I'm not sure whether dancing in my underpants and a bright yellow flower whilst being recorded can be easily topped."

Wales chuckled. "Not that'll you'll try if _you_ win."

"If? I'm sorry but I've made a vow. I _will_ win next year, mark my words."

Wales chuckled again. It was a light and hearty sound reminiscent of the music he loved so much. "Maybe."

England straightened up. "So? What will you have me do? I think you've wasted an opportunity now the others have left. There's no-one else to witness my shame other than you."

"It wouldn't be too different from other years if that was the case. I'm going to honest with you here. This is it."

England furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

There was a pause.

Wales rubbed his face with one hand and glanced away. "There's an awful lot of rubbish going on in the world. I know that. You know that. Everybody on Earth knows that. Then you have you trying to help the others sort it out because it's your duty. I'm afraid we can't get away with being our small little island anymore," he joked. "And that's a good thing, for the most part."

The yellow-haired Englishman didn't understand his brother's drastic change of tone after an entire night of carefree laughter at his expense. "Wales..."

"And I understand better than most people that we haven't exactly been the best brothers over our long lives, we've both changed a lot after all, but..." he sighed again and laughed at himself. "Gosh I'm going to sound pathetic saying this, but I've actually missed them, the days where you were my younger brother."

England forced himself to smirk playfully, "That isn't how time works, Wales."

"I know, I know. I'll always be older but now...you're so much bigger. You've been bigger for a long while now. You've been sadder too."

"You may have a point there," he admitted. "With great responsibility comes great pressure and all that."

"Exactly." Wales smiled and looked back to England. "And face it. You enjoyed tonight."

England's eyes widened as he gave his brother an incredulous stare. " _That_ was your plan?! You wanted to cheer me up by making do a bunch of silly dares?"

"That was for the other countries too. Gotta be a good host."

While Wales chortled England elbowed him. "Your politeness tends to be very selective!"

"But effective."

The two allowed each other to laugh, letting it fill the quiet cold before it inevitably came back. It died down at slow pace, slowing and quieting down until only echoes remained.

"I'm sorry. I'll admit I've been a bit...unpleasant to you, and Scotland and Ireland in the past and now it seems the present isn't exempt either. I...apologise for that. Thank you. I'm going to deny saying this as soon as we get home but I actually did enjoy tonight. We did all need this."

"It was partly you as well. I've been going on and on about me winning but that's just tradition. It was a close match and I'll admit that. If we'd made just slightly different decisions then it could've turned out much differently."

"That's the case with most sports but I understand." England craned his head backwards to stare up at the large clock tower poking out of the town's centre. "It's getting late. We should go and join the others."

" _Brawd_."

"Hmm?"

"Look up."

England was confused but did so anyway. The corners of his mouth turned up but he kept looking up without making a comment. The edge of the magnificent moon had begun to redden as Earth's great shadow started to eclipse it.

Once again both brothers were silent. Neither of them said a word as they watched the lunar eclipse bearing soft smiles and England wrapped an arm around Wales' shoulder, pulling him into a gentle hug.


End file.
